This Could Be Something
by mystripedskirt
Summary: After all this time, she still doesn’t understand. CaB, CaS


Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

* * *

_I don't believe in anything but myself  
I don't believe in anything but myself  
But, then you opened up a door  
You opened up a door  
Now I start to believe in something else_

_-Ingrid Michaelson "Soldier"_

* * *

Carter's twenty second birthday is spent wading through the Caribbean in search of Serena's absent father. He doesn't really mind, because he is used to spending his time wandering, but she is so immersed in the search that she completely forgets.

He's not really looking for a gift, just a little recognition. He lowers his head thoughtfully when they hop on yet another plane to look for Keith van der Woodsen.

When he follows Serena back to New York, he checks into the Plaza and she has the audacity to look surprised.

He asks, "What? It's not like my parents want to see me."

She shakes her head with a small knowing smile before replying, "You could always stay at the Palace, you know. I wouldn't charge you."

Now it is his turn to shake his head at her. After all this time, she still doesn't understand.

"I'm sure you wouldn't, even if that was an issue. Bass won't want to see my name on the guest list. When he does, all hell will break loose."

Serena's smile curves upward slightly more when she mentions, "He's just protective of the people he loves."

Carter smirks, "I wasn't aware that was plural now. Is there something you aren't sharing with me, Serena? I would be very down for a ménage à trois with you and Miss Waldorf."

She leaves him with a frown. Without another glance, she walks away from him like she always walks away from him. He wonders why he bothers anymore.

* * *

Carter surprises his parents one Sunday morning by joining them for their weekly brunch. He makes sure to shave and wear the new gray suit Serena insisted he buy while they roamed the streets of Geneva. It's paired with a button down more aqua than blue, but he goes tieless just to piss his mother off.

He _is_ Carter Baizen, after all.

The tieless suit doesn't piss Victoria off as much as he'd hoped as she delightfully hops up from her seat at Tavern on the Green to hug him in earnest. His father is harder to impress, but Carter gave up on that idea long ago.

"Carter, darling," his mother greets, "It's so wonderful to see you. How long will you be staying with us?"

He's about to shrug before his father stares at him pointedly. The act makes him uncomfortable. It is one of the only things that do.

He merely replies, "As long as you'll have me," because there is nowhere else for him to be in the meantime.

* * *

He admits it is surprising to almost run into Serena one day when he is running an extraneous errand for his mother. Why she would want something from Bleeker Street, he will never know. He wasn't even aware his mother knew streets existed below 51st.

It is a bright October day that brings him downtown when he spots the familiar tint of blonde hair and a swirling of brown. They look happy as they stroll down the sidewalk smiling, so he doesn't want to disturb their peace. If he's honest with himself, he would rather not run into either of the two girls who have the ability to steal his heart without warning.

He thinks Serena spots him as he cuts through Elizabeth Street and E. Houston, but she blinks it away fast enough for him to make his escape. He's a coward and he knows it, but damn it if he cares. He thinks he cares too much, but he can't stand to face them right now.

* * *

It is his family's turn to host the huge Thanksgiving soiree this year, so he must look presentable and lie through his teeth whenever anyone asks him what he has been up to as of late.

Instead of 'fucking Serena van der Woodsen on every surface imaginable on three continents until she runs into the Cristiano Ronaldos of the world' he has to settle for 'opening his eyes to the cultures of the world with a very dear friend.'

To this, he hears a ladylike giggle not two feet from him. When he turns, he has to remember to look down into the deep brown eyes of one Blair Waldorf.

He smiles, "Hey, beautiful. Did you miss me?"

It's easy to play with her. She gives in willingly, her cheeks flushed pink. He's called her beautiful countless times, but she still reacts exactly the same every time she hears it. He would be lying if he said he hated it.

Blair playfully straightens out the tie his mother forced him to wear when she responds lazily, "Hardly. I've been very busy with Chuck, you know."

Carter laughs half heartedly when he responds, "You even talk like him now. You're better than that. You know that, right?"

This time it is her that laughs as she tells him, "What? And you're any better for me? If I remember correctly, you skipped the country last time we were—" she pauses to find a word before she continues, "Whatever. It doesn't even matter."

"He left you in Italy," Carter counters, knowing it is a low blow.

The claws are out when Blair glares at him through thick lashes and whispers heatedly, "You're no better," before she stalks off.

He doesn't see her for the rest of the night. He's disappointed she couldn't handle him for any longer, but he knows he should have handled the situation better. She's Blair Waldorf, he has to remind himself, not just any other girl to lash out at.

He knows the other girls wouldn't have cared.

* * *

It's New Year's Eve and the Palace is decked out in all things black, white, and silver. Carter pours some Stoli into the glass he just filled from the champagne fountain because seeing Blair in a tiny black Valentino with her legs wrapped around Chuck is too much for him to bear.

Serena is in her typical Hervé Léger, which does less to him than he'd like it to. She takes the Stoli from the jacket pocket of his newest custom tailored Armani and drinks it straight from the bottle. If he didn't know any better, he would think she wasin bad taste.

He gives it two minutes before she hits on him and between six or seven for her to be too drunk to remember hitting on him. He lets it happen because this is the best it's going to get for him.

At midnight, his arms are wrapped in a cloud of blonde hair as his eyes are open and gazing upon the most luscious brunette curls he has ever seen in his entire life. Brown eyes snap open as Chuck whispers something into her ear, but her eyes don't leave his until she blinks and he is gone.

* * *

True to form, Serena has no recollection of New Year's and Carter couldn't be happier. He wonders what became of the boy in Santorini, because he never would have given up the slightest chance to be with the bubbliest girl in New York.

He wants to think he is changing, but in reality, he knows he is only on a one way path to becoming the man his parents want him to be. He's a far cry from that man, but he is inching ever closer to the fact.

He attends a Democratic fundraiser with his mother when his father is at work. It's not surprising to run into Nate, but it is surprising when he walks up to him to say hello.

"Hey," Carter greets in return, his hands shoved into the pockets of yet another tailored Armani.

"I wanted to apologize," Nate starts, but Carter laughs.

"For what?"

"The ball," Nate mentions, slightly put off, "I blamed you for sleeping with Blair when it was really Chuck."

This hits too close to home for the time being, so Carter only nods, "Don't bother. It's not like I wouldn't have done it."

He doesn't mean to sound so crude in front of Blair's first boyfriend, but Nate knows him well so he just lets it slide, but not before the telltale wrinkling in his forehead tells Carter he is madder than he lets on.

* * *

When he tries his hand at Dartmouth, there's a tiny brunette with sad eyes in his art history lecture that looks like she's about to breakdown at any given moment.

She gives him a shy smile instead of the lustful glances he's been given lately when he wonders, "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Surprisingly enough, she lets him take her to coffee and they discuss the various aspects of their lives. As usual, her eyes light up in wonder and amazement as he describes the telltale Upper East Side and its illuminating characteristics.

* * *

Blair calls him one fall day during her junior year and Carter has to admit his surprise. He's kept up with Serena on a semi regular basis over the years, but Blair has never been the first one to call him. He calls her out on this.

"I can't just call an old friend?" she laughs gaily.

"Is that what we are?" Carter asks with a smile, before adding in, "Friends?"

She quips, "I think so," with a nod to her head that he can't perceptibly notice.

* * *

When Nate ends up marrying the southern belle he fell for at Columbia, all of New York society books flights to DFW. There is chaos when Carter finally lands. He is trying to breathe easily through all the humidity when he hears Blair yelling at the rental car counter.

She exclaims, "What do you mean I can't rent a Porsche? There is no way I'm driving _that_."

The way she throws her hands about in a ridiculous manner is so familiar to him that he just has to laugh. She turns around frowning, before she eyes him warily.

"Carter," she says slowly, "Mr. Pratt here says I can't rent a Porsche. Do something about this."

There's nothing to do but usher her out of the airport into the waiting town car. She looks up at him with a questioning gaze until he silences her with a finger to her lips. She closes her eyes, focusing on the moment, but it has passed as the car begins to move.

They are taken to a luxury car rental where Carter merely struts up to the desk and says his last name. A minute later, there is a charcoal Lamborghini waiting for them.

"Nice," Blair observes, "Very Bruce Wayne."

Carter laughs, "Did you just compare my car choice to a fictional character?"

"Hey," Blair points a finger into his chest, "I happen to have a thing for Bruce."

"He's fictional."

"He's hot and he looks amazing in Armani."

Carter laughs again, "Are those your only two qualifications? If so, I think I qualify."

"Oh, you could never apply for _that_ job," Blair playfully mentions, not so carefully dumping her luggage into the car's very small trunk.

There is a small voice that exclaims, "Carter, hi," at the reception and Carter stops and stares at his little Dartmouth friend.

"Hey," he greets her, pulling her into a hug.

"Darlin', who is that?" a blond man asks, his unruly curls hanging low on his face.

"Jasper," she tells the man, "This is Carter. We went to Dartmouth together."

Blair pulls something similar to Jasper when Carter introduces her to Bella. He thinks it's nice to have her visibly almost wanting him. He still hasn't asked about Chuck. He still doesn't know if he will.

"So," Blair mentions hours later, "Who was that?"

"I already told you," Carter says between kisses, "My friend Bella from Dartmouth."

Blair's teeth are grazing at his neck when she looks at up at him and responds, "Your friend, huh?"

Carter smirks, "Are you jealous?"

Her eyes betray her words when she replies, "No."

"You shouldn't be. I only need one beautiful brunette."

Like clockwork, her cheeks flush the most beautiful shade of rosy pink and it takes all his resolve not to take her against the wall. They have yet to make it back to one of their hotel rooms and he will be damned if he just takes her in the hallway.

Eventually, Carter fumbles around his pocket for his key to the W Hotel and they make their way inside. Blair is breathless and panting against him and he smirks again for making her feel this way.

It's going to push her buttons, but he doesn't care, so he asks about Chuck.

She frowns, "Do you not want to fuck?"

And hearing Blair Waldorf say the word _fuck_ does dirty things to the parts underneath his pants, so he closes his eyes and tells her, "I just need to know if it's over."

She hisses, "I've never _cheated_."

His eyes snap open as he replies quietly, "I know that. I wasn't accusing you of anything. I just want to know if Bass is going to break down my door and maul me."

"He would pay someone to do that," Blair says thoughtfully, "And I'll be the one doing the mauling tonight, thank you."

With that, she nips at his chest again and something akin to a growl escapes from his chest.

"I've missed this," he tells her honestly, as he hoists her against his length.

"Mm," she agrees, biting him right under his ear and flicking her cool breath on the spot afterward.

When he slides into her, it's as easy as it was so many years ago and he wonders what the hell took him so long to get back to her. He doesn't deserve her and she can do better than him, but right now he doesn't care.

* * *

Everything is perfect.


End file.
